When The Dawn Comes
by Kipling Bunny
Summary: Bruce ultimately feels as though his world is spinning further into darkness. Even more so after recent events. When will his proverbial dawn arrive? Meanwhile, he has to contend with an unknown superheroine. Nolan-verse/BMWW
1. The Dawn Is Coming

Disclaimer: Consider it _disclaimed._

Hello everyone! This my attempt at a Nolan-verse/BMWW story. Batman, of course, is the exact character from both BB and TDK. Diana (WW) is also particularly the same as well. The only difference would be her first interactions with Man's World, and the like. I should also note her warrior regalia isn't typically the red, white and blue one. But perhaps it can be... later.

And this is set directly after The Dark Knight.

Geeky BMWW Fan- Thank you for the awesome beta. And thanks for putting up with all my silly tendencies. It helped a lot! I bestow upon you a magical betta that never dies. :D

And as always, thank you for reading everyone!

* * *

_Chapter One: The Dawn Is Coming_

* * *

* * *

In a moment of sheer-willpower, Bruce managed to close his eyes and meticulously started clearing his head. After nearly a month of neglecting his daily meditation routines, he finally noticed the clarity he had once held fast to had been lacking. The walls in his mind had been razed and Bruce needed time to build them back up.

_"The night is always darkest before the dawn. And the dawn is coming." _Harvey's voice unintentionally rang like a bell through Bruce's mind; it reminded him clearly of the day's prior memorial Gotham bestowed upon the former District Attorney.

It forced Bruce to open his eyes, while it also brought to mind the cataclysmic events that had taken place beforehand. And how Bruce's current dilemma came to be.

Allowing himself to remain deep in thought, Bruce kept his eyes trained on the large glass windows before him. He sat rigid in the soft leather seat overlooking the view of his wayward city. The waning light of day seeped through the high-rises of Gotham's downtown section, reminding him of one important fact: night was upon him.

And another drawn-out patrol of the city awaited him.

Why did it have to end like this?

Despite all he had tried to accomplish, and regardless of the effort he put into taking control of his life, everything felt as though it was spiraling downward. Harvey was someone he had put his faltering hopes in. The results in something so trivial couldn't have been worse.

And that was the least of his problems.

Bruce's perception had increased tenfold and he could sense his caretaker entering the room before it happened. The Englishman's steps were heavy. Bruce guessed he carried a tea tray along with him.

Alfred's smiling face and silver tray entered the billionaire's peripheral vision. "A cup before you leave, sir?"

Bruce glanced at the small white cup and nodded while reaching for it. "Why did it have to end this way, Alfred?" He vocalized the question that had been plaguing him. Somehow Bruce thought sharing his thoughts with another, mainly Alfred, could make him feel better. It only seemed to finalize the doom that had overwhelmed him.

"End, sir? In my mind, this is only the start of the beginning. Things have to get worse before they get better."

Bruce absentmindedly brought the hot porcelain up to his lips. "I can't imagine it getting much worse."

As if in answer to his comment, a mammoth explosion only a block away filled the once serene setting-sun landscape.

Immediately, the blast from the bomb shook the surrounding areas violently. The glass windows closest to Bruce threatened to crack underneath the powerful jolt from the explosion.

Broken glass was the last thing on his mind.

Bruce was already out of his seat and marching towards the false panic room deeply hidden within Wayne Tower where he stored an additional suit for emergencies and fast exits.

"Sir?" Alfred called out calmly.

"Drive out to the docks, Alfred. It'll be safer there." It wasn't a suggestion. Alfred knew that tone exceedingly well.

* * *

It was only a matter of minutes before Bruce left his building, donning the batsuit. His gait increased as he felt precious seconds slipping past. Time, it seemed, was never on his side.

Without making any noise, he hurried toward the backside of the massive building, completely shrouded in shadows. The dark of the night aided him in keeping out of plain sight and avoiding any connection to the Wayne structure. On this particular evening, however, extra precautions didn't matter. Everyone was focused on the burning building mere blocks from his own.

Once protected in the small alley past the parking garage, Bruce reached past his left side, near his belt, and grabbed the grappling hook. With a single swift motion, he sent the black spiraled hook towards the fire escape closest to him and pulled the release, allowing himself to fly higher into the night.

As he found sure footing, he climbed onto the roof while watching the Gotham Fire Department down below speed past in a blur, their sirens wailing into the darkness.

Craning his neck, Bruce could see the blaze from the building he stood on. The fire lit up the night with an eerie orange glow, bouncing off the water in the harbor and the glistening glass adorning Wayne Tower.

Bruce's eyes focused primarily on the smoke wafting from the blaze. The color had been highlighted by the fiery mess. If his eyes weren't deceiving him, the thick smoke was purple. A dark, royal purple.

He knew, somehow, the Joker had been responsible. He hadn't ignored his instincts in the slightest, but Bruce had momentarily wavered on the possibility. Perhaps it was a copy-cat, but it seemed unlikely. And even though the Joker had been safely secured in Arkham for at least three days, it didn't mean a thing.

The bastard was good at looking innocent.

Bruce growled as he lunged forward, kicking off the stone roof and onto the lower roof of the next structure, allowing himself to get closer to the monstrous blaze.

As he came closer, he could feel the heat permeating the air around him. He tried planning out and imagining the best way to enter the engulfed area to help search for survivors, but at all angles, it seemed futile.

Gritting his teeth, Bruce bounded across the building's roof and managed to get as close as possible to the inferno. After a few strenuous seconds, the only thing between him and the disaster was air.

His dark eyes searched the ground and he watched as surveyors, local authorities, on-lookers and firefighters scattered amongst the streets below. The firefighters were risking their lives upon entering. Their trucks were already in the process of showering the flames with their own means, but nothing seemed to be taking much effect.

As if just appearing out of thin air, something or someone fast and white flew past his peripheral vision. Bruce whipped his gaze from the inferno to the newest addition to the scene so quickly, he had to give himself a few moments to focus on just what exactly he was seeing.

From what he could tell, it was a woman. And she was flying.

Feeling helpless, he watched as this stranger, from the air, dashed into the burning remains and started ousting the fire from within. He wasn't sure how, but it was happening before his very eyes.

Once the lapping flames had died down significantly, Bruce once again grabbed his grappling hook and shot it over to an exposed metal beam. He secured himself and jumped across, flying into the calmed disaster. The remaining heat and purple smoke filled his lungs and eyes, making it nearly impossible to direct his steps once he had made contact with the smouldering building.

Gripping onto the stone siding, he climbed in through an open window. He could feel the heat off of the metal framing inside the room and even though his suit regulated his core temperature, Bruce's forehead immediately perspired upon walking further into the atmosphere.

The woman he had seen couldn't have survived something like this. Even though he only saw her a brief second or two, he noticed that her outfit wasn't entirely protective

But if she was flying... What did that mean? He didn't have enough time to think over the possibilities of who or what she was. He had a job to do.

Once he had made his way into the hallway, Bruce could see charred markings that streaked across the now open and exposed dry wall.

But so far he couldn't see anyone.

As he walked slowly but firmly through the lightless and dank environment, he saw her. He was far too camouflaged to be seen himself, which afforded him a great advantage. And from what he could see, it was definitely a _her. _And she was most definitely human. From what he could tell.

He watched silently as she gathered two smoke-saturated victims into her arms, only to then jump out of a nearby open window.

Glancing down onto the city street, he watched as she handed the people over to the awaiting ambulances that had gathered alongside the fire trucks. At least she wasn't a threat.

Who was this person?

Not waiting for her to return, Bruce started a thorough investigation of the floor. At once it dawned on him, the entire fire was completely snuffed out. It was more than apparent that this mystery woman had completed the task.

His mind ran with the possibilities. Could this be an actual superhero? Or rather, superheroine? He thought about the comic books he had read as a young boy. But this seemed entirely unrealistic.

Bruce had seen many things in his day, things that could be labeled as unexplainable, but this took the cake.

A noise from behind alerted him that he was being watched. He turned abruptly and saw a pair of blue eyes framed by long, black lashes staring back at him. If he hadn't been completely preoccupied with his current predicament, Bruce might have concluded that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

It didn't stop him, however, from completely studying her. Despite the fact that she was powerful, she didn't frighten him. Her body language indicated that she wasn't there to harm him, and that he shouldn't view her as a threat. Yet.

The most puzzling, however, was her outfit. It was a creamy alabaster warrior's tunic with metal and gold detailing. From what he could tell, it looked older than the first century. It also looked Greek.

"There are no more survivors." She seemed hesitant at first with speaking. Bruce noted a slight accent to her voice, but he couldn't place it. "And the fire is taken care of."

Bruce merely stared back at her. "Who are you?" He asked quietly. His voice might have come off more stern than he had intended. But while wearing the suit, he usually threw his polite nature to the wind.

Instead of answering him, she merely narrowed her eyes while backing away. After an extra second of silence, she retreated through the same window she had entered from and took to the smoky skies.

He watched as her figure disappeared from sight.

Once she had left, Bruce questioned the entire thing all together. Did what just happen, really happen? Had he just watched a beautiful woman _fly_ away?

Still, he had a job to accomplish before the firemen came up to survey the damage. He hardly wanted to be seen, especially while on a night like this particular night. The authorities had more on their plate than having to deal with the _outcast_.

Bruce walked around, sullenly, looking for any evidence to the explosion. From the power of the blast, it was more than just an accident. It was planned. It could have been tampering. The gas lines, perhaps.

His mind reverted to the sadistic Joker. He frowned ruefully. It could be _anything._

Giving up hope on finding any remaining evidence, Bruce turned the corner into the large lobby of the high-rise floor. The building was used for miscellaneous purposes. An accounting firm had held this particular floor. Including the one below it. Both had been affected greatly by the fire.

And at once, he saw it. Scrawled, off-white letters in the smudged, black backdrop. It must have been fire-retardant somehow, there was no other explanation.

All it said was: _I left hints._ And, of course, a smiley face had been left right next to the jarring words.

As Bruce left the building, he wondered greatly on the prospect of other 'accidents' as well. And if the Joker had truly left hints, he wondered what he would have to look for to stop another explosive from going off.

The mysterious woman also dominated his thoughts. He wondered if he would have to deal with another visit from her again.

For the first time in a matter of days, Bruce had no idea what to expect next.

* * *

Yes? No? Comments? Questions? Feel free to share and let me know. :D


	2. The Beginning

Sorry about the wait. Again, thank you for reading.

GBMWWF- Thank you, friend. Not sure what to give you. So I'm giving you a BMWW nightlight. I don't know what that is, but it sounds fun. And a BMWW blanket to go with it. :D

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

* * *

_Chapter Two: The Beginning_

* * *

Feeling quite safe after flying somewhat aimlessly into the night, she stopped in a neighboring city. A tall building adorned with a large metal globe was the first thing that had caught her eye, and immediately she landed next to the circular object. Concealing herself on the rooftop from the bright lights of the city night-life, Diana took a moment to regain her bearings.

She inhaled a sharp breath, while her heart pounded in her ears. _Diana, what were you thinking? _

She was far from disappointed in herself. Barging into a situation that didn't concern her wasn't a tactful move, but it wasn't in her nature to stand by and do nothing. She was a warrior born; it was her duty to serve those who faced peril and injustice.

Even still, who else could have saved those victims from the burning remains?

_He_ certainly couldn't have. Could he?

Diana thought back to her brief staring contest with the Bat of Gotham. Even though she knew little of him, he seemed potentially dangerous, but not in the ways she had devised in her mind. Still, her venture into the city of Gotham was a wrong move. If she was going to make her self known and established in Patriarch's World, it certainly could have been more subtle.

However, if she _hadn't_ doused those flames... She shook her head. _What's done is done._

Fabricating false scenarios in her mind wasn't going to help her any.

Right then and there, Diana decided her next trip to Patriarch's World would be less ostentatious.

Now she had to focus on her long trip back to Themyscira. She knew in her heart that her mother angrily awaited her, and she knew full well that the queen had noticed and realized that the Amazonian warrior regalia had gone missing.

The evening breeze picked up, allowing the tunic-like skirt to flutter across her legs. Diana looked down at the flowy, white garment embellished with gold and studied it carefully. The ornate eagle breast-plate signified everything she was meant to be, free and fearless. A warrior destined in the long over-due assignment of aiding and redeeming Patriarch's World. A force to set right all of the undesirable wrong that had permeated the air; to finally manifest the ways of the Amazons.

She alone had been endowed with her abilities and powers. It was time she made use of them.

Feeling empowered, Diana lifted her head and stared up at the starry sky. She prayed silently for guidance from her deities, while offering unwavering praise and thanks. The stars seemed to twinkle in answer and the moon glowed with the might of Hera herself.

Knowing full well she wasn't alone in her endeavors, Diana took off into the night once again. No longer prolonging the inevitable, she had to return to Themyscira.

* * *

Alfred stood on the shipping crate's elevator and waited as it started slowly maneuvering him down. In the panic of releasing Batman's identity, Bruce and Alfred had abandoned the crate, leaving it empty and devoid of life. But ever since Dent's demise and the further personification of the Dark Knight, they had resumed using it as a pseudo 'cave', until the manor was rebuilt.

Which reminded Alfred, as he was lowered completely onto the bottom flooring, Master Bruce was to accompany him to the build site that afternoon.

And, as usual, his employer was sitting in his seat, at his desk, inspecting various components of high explosive fragments via the screens before him.

"I'm hoping I don't have to stitch you up today," Alfred announced, walking off the platform.

Bruce's lazy answer indicated he was only half-way paying attention to the Englishman, "Not today, Alfred."

Alfred stood and watched as Bruce glanced at the left monitor and typed notes.

"Further research, sir?"

This prompted Bruce to stop and swivel his chair. "Research on last nights explosion." Bruce then rubbed his eyes, prompting Alfred to wonder if he had had any sleep at all the previous night.

"I see," Alfred mused lightly. Bruce was in an awfully quiet mood, his mind was most likely preoccupied.

For a moment, as Alfred quietly studied his ward, he realized just how much pressure Bruce was under. It was taking more of a strain on him mentally and emotionally than he had realized. A post-Arkham attack from the Joker must have sent Bruce into a mental flurry, and the sight before him was the product of such chaos.

And today was a particularly special day, as far as Bruce was concerned. It was a Thursday, Bruce Wayne always had Thursdays off. Which meant that the CEO of Wayne Enterprises was to purposely spend the day stuck for hours on end in a god forsaken crate. But Alfred hardly argued with him; it's what his master wanted.

Bruce blinked wearily, staring off into space for a moment. Undoubtedly analyzing the newest situation brought before him.

"Perhaps I should get you some coffee..."

Bruce shook his head. "No, no. I'm ok." That was a lie if Alfred had ever heard one.

Alfred remembered partially why he had visited in the first place.

Without waiting for a pause in Bruce's steadfast analysis, Alfred set two papers down on the computer desk, prompting Bruce to halt and look down at them.

"The Gothamite calls her 'Amazing Woman'. The Gotham Globe doesn't have a name for her yet," Alfred then nudged the first paper over slightly, allowing the Gazette to be in plainer sight. "The Gotham Gazette has dubbed her 'Wonder Woman'. I think Wonder Woman has a nice ring to it. Don't you think, sir?"

Alfred watched Bruce carefully as he stared down at the blurred photograph from last night's explosion.

"Last night..." Bruce started. "It's odd, Alfred. It's as though, she had magical powers. I can't really explain what I saw. It was supernatural."

"Because most women with great legs can't fly, sir?"

This forced Bruce to smile, if ever so slightly. It warmed Alfred knowing Bruce still had a sense of humor.

But the moment of Bruce regaining his mortal coil had come and gone. Right before his eyes, Alfred watched as Bruce's demeanor switched back to the figure he portrayed every night.

Seeing as though he wasn't needed, Alfred turned to leave.

"I'll be back to pick you up at noon. You're to accompany me to the build site." Alfred paused, waiting for Bruce to vocalize his agreement. He heard nothing. Alfred turned his head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of Bruce, "Seeing the area all cleared once again shall be interesting, don't you think so, sir?..."

But Bruce wasn't listening. Instead of staring placidly at the screens that were now in the process of breaking down basic carbon molecules, Bruce was looking down at the newspaper. Either the picture of the woman had caught his eye, or he had submerged himself in the article. Or both.

Alfred smiled and continued walking, "Most interesting, indeed."

* * *

Carl Harrison, editor at large of the Gotham Gazette, stared in awe at the piece of paper before him.

"Is this accurate?" He asked his two assistants who were eagerly awaiting his beck and call.

The closer assistant, Monica, gave an exaggerated nod. "Yes, it just came in."

Carl had been with the Gazette for 42 years. For over those four decades, he had witnessed quite a bit in the news world and nothing surprised him anymore. Not to mention, ever since the dawning of the the Internet phenomenon, the newspaper industry had seen its fair share plummet exceedingly. But the Gazette held fast, and Carl prided himself on every waking moment of it.

But this new development astounded him. He wasn't just surprised, he was literally shell-shocked.

One clear shot of the flying, good-looking (he couldn't completely see her face, but he just knew she was nothing but gorgeous) woman from the previous night's disaster, and his newspaper sales were skyrocketing.

He almost forgot to swallow.

"We haven't had sales like this since..." He was trying to remember.

Todd, the other assistant answered, "97."

"Yeah," Carl agreed, "Since that one British princess died. But still..." He then glanced down at the figures before him. "This is unreal."

Not only had the mystery woman made the front page, she had, in turn, now given the company record sales. Sales that could never have been repeated again.

"Let's just say, the city of Gotham found our 'Wonder Woman' interesting," Todd quipped.

Carl leaned back into his chair and nodded slowly; he had some judgment calls to make. From the clear windows of his office, he could see the outside of the journalists' work area. The employees and co-workers around him were bustling like mad. This 'flying woman' was making headlines everywhere and they were receiving extravagant top dollar for their few measly shots.

And their pictures were better than the Globe's and the Gothamite's. Carl smiled to himself. It paid having the best photographers in the city.

He let out a hearty breath, "We need more of her." He pounded his desk loudly. "How do we get her back?"

A chief-journalist flung himself into Carl's office, "There's news of a Wonder Woman sighting over the south Pacific."

Carl set his jaw. The slight possibilty of having her anywhere close to the city had just fizzled out.

"Dammit!" Carl looked down at the astronomical sales figures once again. "We've got to have this Wonder Woman back in Gotham."

He pointed at Todd and Monica roughly. "I don't care what you have to do, just do it. If we can, let's set up an interview with her."

Monica and Todd looked at each other and then back at their boss.

Both assistants knew that feat was more than impossible. Still, they had to humor him.

"Uh, sir, let's say we do...uh, find her. How do we even know she wasn't involved in the explosion to begin with?" Monica asked. "The investigation showed it was foul play."

"I don't even care! She's far more interesting than the Batman, so we need her back." He narrowed his eyes, " And I expect you two to do it!"

* * *

Thank you for reading! I hope to update at a much quicker pace. Let me know what you think!

_Reed-_ Ha! Thank you. So glad you like it. Nothing wrong with an OC, but WW needs to come into his life. I totally agree. :D

_Steph-_ Thank you!! :))


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